I have you pegged as a man of vice. C'mon buddy, where's that famous smirk? There it is! But forget those drugs you hoovered up. Forget the kids you fucked and had killed. Forget the war and the misery, suffering, and death you inflicted upon millions. All of that. Forget about it. Let's just go with gambling. You like a bet don't you? Sure you do. You and Dick used to put down a quiet couple of grand as to who could shoot that 'rabbit' first. Rabbits in high heels, ha! But forget the hunting too, we're talking gambling. Well here's a bet for you.
You know that scene in Platoon where the redneck stomps the head of the idiot son - "Holy shit, you see that fucking head come apart, man? Shit, I've never seen brains like that before, man!"? C'mon George, think back into those coke-addled wilderness years. Even though you couldn't get it up then (what with viagra not having been invented) you got a bit of a soft-on. Just in case it's a bit dim in your drug-fried brain, here's a pic. Remember this guy? He stomped that gook head.
And here's the set-up - We take that scene and digitally alter it so that the idiot son is you (not much of a stretch I admit). It'll be you copping the stomping. And with digital effects being what they are nowadays it'll be so real even you'll think it's you. Then we screen it in any multiplex as a short before the main feature just like in the old days. And here's the crunch - I'll bet every penny I have that the audiences cheer. They'll cheer when you're whimpering in terror and they'll laugh when your brains are spattered all over the walls. How about it George? You up?
Because that's you mate. You are the guy in the movie whose grisly death would have the audience cheering. That's you. Enjoy the rest of your worthless fucking life.
Apologies to Les Visible. This really ought to have been a comment on his marvellous George W. Bush, Grade A. USDA-Prime Sonofabitch but I whacked it up here instead.